


All the Things Left Unsaid

by ohmyalex



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Complete, Elevators, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, POV Bucky Barnes, What should have happened in Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyalex/pseuds/ohmyalex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He looked up at me and I saw the tears in his eyes. “Steve,” I whispered, “why do you keep trying to save me? It’s ripping your life apart.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Things Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Civil War, right before Tony meets back up with them before facing Zemo. I saw the moment in the elevator and couldn't let go of the potential of those four steel walls. 
> 
> (Read: I have a Grey's Anatomy-sized obsession with elevators.)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://buckyevanstan.tumblr.com)!
> 
> * * *

The door of the industrial elevator closed and I could immediately feel his eyes. I could feel his gaze through my clothes like fingers gently pressing into my skin--my face, my neck, my shoulders, my chest. I knew he was remembering us from our shared childhood, most of which were moments I had no memory of. Memories Hydra stole from me.

Our eyes met and it sent a jolt up my metal arm, my most visible mark of shame amongst many invisible ones. He saw me shiver and reached out to touch me. I felt the pads of his fingers run along the metal hinges of my left wrist. His eyes traveled down to follow his fingers. If the arm had been real, it would have broken out in gooseflesh, but instead, the cold hardness of the metal gave Steve something to brace himself with. He gripped my forearm so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Buck...”

He looked up at me and I saw the tears in his eyes. “Steve,” I whispered, “why do you keep trying to save me? It’s ripping your life apart.” 

Almost immediately his expression turned from melancholic to raging. “ Why do I keep trying to save you?! How dare you ask me that! Dammit, Bucky. That’s like asking me why I keep breathing. Isn’t it obvious? I keep breathing _for you_. I keep trying to save you because I know that deep down, no matter what Hydra put in your head or whatever words they say to turn you into something you aren’t, you’re still you. You’re still Bucky. _My_  Bucky.  _I’m with you ’til the end of the line_. Remember?”

He inhaled deeply and waited. The fire left his eyes as quickly as it came. He thought that his words—his memories—like so many others, had washed over me unrecognized. But, something lingered on the edges of my memory. _We were outside his house in Brooklyn, just after his mom died. My hand grasped his shoulder, thumb resting on his collar bone. “I’m with you ’til the end of the line, pal.”_

The hazy memory warped. _“You’re. My. Mission.” I punctuated every word with a blow. I raised my metal fist again and held it there. His left eye had already started to swell. “Then finish it,” he said, “cause I’m with you ’til the end of the line.”_ _I stared at him in shock before another explosion hit, causing his unconscious body to fall to the water below. I watched him plummet, hanging from the helicarrier remains before letting go…_

“I remember,” I said as I reached to wipe a tear from his cheek where it had welled over his helmet. He leaned into my touch, leaving white circles on his skin where my fingertips pressed into his flesh. I smiled up at him and tried to convey the heaviness of those words--the two years of sleepless nights, trying to grasp at memories that fell through my fingers like wisps of smoke. I stilled my hand against his jaw, tilted his head down toward mine, and looked him dead in the eye.

“ _I remember_.” 

He looked at me and I saw something snap within him, some long reinforced levee that a tidal wave finally came crashing over. He took my face between his hands and forced me to the wall of the elevator. His hands slid down my neck and over my shoulders. One hand kept sliding down my metal arm causing the grooves to contract involuntarily in response. The other ran up my arm to the hand that was still cupping his cheek. Steve grabbed it and slowly moved both my hand and his, fingers intertwined, to his heart. I could feel it beating below the skin and bones that once had seemed so easy to break. 

He took a deep breath and spoke with a low voice, “When I thought you died back in ‘45, I felt it here.” He pressed my hand into his chest. “You know, I blamed myself. I couldn’t move fast enough. I couldn’t reach far enough. You fell with your hand outstretched reaching for me, and I wasn’t there for you. I heard your screams in my dreams after. Sometimes, I think I heard your screams while I was frozen for 70 years.

“When I saw you back in DC on the bridge, even when you looked at me and you didn’t know me, I knew that I hadn’t lost you forever. I thought somehow, someway, if you were alive, that you’d remember. Then, when you pulled me from the river, _I knew it was true_. So back in Lagos, when Rumlow said your name, said you knew me, it took me right back to when we were two stupid kids from Brooklyn. All of my hopes over the last two years came rushing back. And it was in those precious seconds that all of this started. The bomb, Wanda’s accident, the Accords, the fighting, all of it.”

Steve stopped and took a second to collect himself. When he started to speak again, he looked at me with unguarded eyes. “You asked me why I keep trying to save you when it’s ripping my life apart? The truth is...the truth is that my life was ripped apart long before Lagos, before Romania, and even before DC. I haven’t felt whole since I watched as your body hurtled toward the bottom of that gorge. But, it’s these moments, when we’re together and you remember, _really remember_ , that I start to think I might be whole again. The pieces of my broken heart are like your shattered memories; there’s only one way to mend them. **Together**.”

I’d wanted to know why he kept coming to my rescue and now I knew. It was the same reason that I pulled him out of the water in DC. It was because, no matter what came between us, there would always be an us. An us that could never be broken by memory loss, or evil government organizations, or even death. This bond, this _love_ , that we have for one another transgresses all those boundaries. 

I exhaled slowly and lifted my arm, the low light of the elevator softly reflecting off the polished surface. Tenderly, I cupped his cheek and grazed his jaw with my thumb. I knew that I should say something, but the words felt lodged in my throat. In 70 years, I had said little more than the few Russian words needed to assure my Hydra commanders that I was ready to comply. 

So, I didn’t say anything. 

I just kissed him. 

When my lips pressed against his, his eyes went wide. But, after a moment, they fluttered closed and he responded. At first, it was hesitant, just a whisper of mutual longing. Then his hand slid up to the back of my neck and he pulled me closer. I took his top lip into my mouth and sucked gently as he moaned in response. The sound spurred me on. I ran my tongue along his lip and he opened for me as I tentatively explored his mouth with mine. He fisted my hair and angled my head up to deepen the kiss, tilting my face slightly to the side. He pulled my lower lip into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth. I winced at the pain and pleasure of it, tasting the sweet mint flavor of his mouth mixed with mine. 

I struggled to free my hand from his, still trapped between our chests. I needed to touch him with the flesh of my real hand instead of only the metal. He felt me trying to loosen his grasp and let go. I slid my palm flat against the contours of his chest, my fingers relishing the texture of his suit. My hand moved up to his collar and pulled him harder against me, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, so I could feel his heart beat in time with mine. This Steve, so much taller than the one I knew when we were children, enveloped me with his body. He pressed me into the wall with the sheer force of his kiss. I grabbed at his helmet, wanting to touch his face and memorize his features so I could never forget them no matter how many times the goddamn words were repeated. I ripped at the chinstrap to loosen and remove his helmet.

When it hit the floor with a sharp crack, Steve opened his eyes and stilled. They were filled with unbridled lust and a twinge of panic. He pulled back, disconnecting himself from me, and gently pressed his forehead to mine. His hand settled gently against the side of my neck. 

“Bucky…what just happened?”

“I….” I paused, “I think something just happened that I’ve wanted for more than 75 years.”

He exhaled and smiled, looking down at the floor. “I think I wanted it too.” He looked up at me then, with that grin that reached his eyes, that I knew he saved just for me. “Damn, I really am the world’s leading authority on waiting too long. Listen, Buck, if I don’t make it out of here…”

I stopped him with a searing kiss. Even though he knew I did it to silence him, he couldn’t help but kiss me back. We held onto each other, both hands moving and clutching and grabbing and pulling and pushing. We knew that this could be, probably would be, the last time we could be like this. A long love story with a short and tragic ending. When I pulled away, I pleaded with him; “don’t talk like that. If anyone should be talking like that it should be me. You’ve risked everything for me, Steve. I can’t, _I won’t_ , let you die here. Whoever this guy is, whatever he’s decided to unleash down there, you have to promise me that if it looks like it’s going to go sour—get yourself out. I only just got you back in my life, I couldn’t make it if you were ripped out again.” 

I was trembling by the end of my speech. He looked at me with concern and gripped my shoulders. “Okay, _okay_ ,” he said, “if it looks bad, I’ll go.” I knew he was lying. I would have done the same thing. Before, I would have argued with him, called him on his bullshit. But, I knew that he would no more leave me alone in a fight than I would him. We were trapped in a perpetual cycle of saving one another. Doomed to a life of life and death, a life of constant running. If we made it out of here alive, we would still be running from the 117 governments that wanted Steve and I to answer for our actions. I had lived that life, but Steve hadn’t, and I didn’t want him to. Whatever that meant for the future, I wasn’t sure—but we’d find out if the future came at all.

The elevator was nearing the bottom floor, the deepest part of this Hydra outpost, almost a mile below the surface. Steve was staring at the floor, unsure of how to end this short and impulsive moment. I grabbed his hands and squeezed them. He looked at my metal hand, turning my palms up to face him. He traced the grooves there and the sensation lit my prosthetic nerves on fire. I caught hold of his forearm with my other hand, feeling the defined muscles there. We had said so much to each other, but there was still more—things that hadn’t been said, things that didn’t need to be said—so we poured all of them into those last fleeting touches. 

When the elevator came to a halt, we let go of each other. Steve picked up his fallen helmet and fastened it back on. We both nodded to each other, knowing that we were heading into something with uncertain outcomes. We were ready; we were together. I picked up my gun and he picked up his shield. When the doors opened, Steve looked out to check the perimeter. He signaled the all clear and opened the gate. The two of us, falling back into old habits, covered each other as we moved into the depths of the Hydra base. 

As we rounded the corner into a deserted hallway, I looked back at the elevator. As much as I wanted to forget this place, as much as this place was a marker of 70 years of pain and torture, I needed to remember what happened here between us. I needed to burn those four steel walls into my memory so deep that I could never forget them. I saw the phantom of our embrace, felt his kiss on my lips, and heard him call me his. My shattered memories and his broken heart could start mending the only way we knew how. Whatever happened next, if we lived or died, it would be together.

* * *

 


End file.
